If you ever read me on ViscousLidocaine, I am perpetually under medical care. Whether it's for bipolar disorder, a brain tumor, lupus, arthritis, spastic colon, parkinsonia, it's always fucking something.
Right now it's relatively banal. I have a cold. One plain old wicked cold. I am sharing it with DJ, who is recovering much more quickly than I, with different symptoms. Yesterday I had a run in the rain, which doesn't improve things, but I'm not sure it hurts altogether that much either.
The last consulting firm the Otherh worked with is being stingy with his remaining paycheques. For instance, they will be weeeeeks late. To this I feel like saying "fuck them and their badges and laptops and all the rest of the stuff they want back. Show me the money, and then we'll play fair." The issue is an invoice, which they lost.
If you're the Otherh, you make a ridiculous (well, semi-ridiculous) lot of money in a short amount of time. Which means everything we had to catch up on is going to be pushed yet another week before it's all current. Including my cars. My credit rating has been sacrificed for the love of this man, because his contracting ways are not altogether easy to chart. Sort on and off work.
I think the stress of not getting paycheques on time is holding my cold down. I think the stress, albeit a good one, of moving, isn't helping. I simply have given up caring about how to move smoothly. I feel like I'll just keep bringing carloads over here til I've gotten what I want, or close enough, and then store the rest. Which sounds like a grand idea, but ideas seem to cost hundreds of dollars that I don't currently possess. In 2 weeks, I'll have more, which seems like I should just wait two weeks to even begin to worry about it, but as it is, I'm just eating ativan to make the worry subside for bits at a time.
mmmm ativan.
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